


Purple Yellow Red and Blue

by tsuruko (orphan_account)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:10:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1749065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tsuruko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma concedes faster than he thinks he should have, but, this time, he’s okay with breaking a perfect streak in a game, especially if it means having Kuroo’s clever hands on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purple Yellow Red and Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I was talkin' with some friends about the lack of KuroKen fic on this fine website and, with more talk about Kuroo and Kenma being in love, this was born. I haven't written porn since an Eruri RP I did a few months ago so this is probably laughable but _hey_....... don't. 
> 
> The title is a song by Portugal. The Man, and this is filling the "Blue" prompt because I said so.

They’re pressed close together on the small couch, Kenma’s cheek denting where it lays against Kuroo’s thigh and Kuroo’s hand in his hair, fingers threaded through soft locks and thumb rubbing back and forth on his scalp. He’s steps away from purring and nuzzling Kuroo’s leg, but he’s so comfortable that he doesn’t dare chance moving in the slightest, curled up under probably every blanket in Kuroo’s house to ward off the cold and using his captain as a pillow while the rain beats down outside. The sky is a soft, hazy grey-blue. Kenma can peek up at it from where he lays, and he thinks that it’s nice to have a Saturday off from practice, to spend it lying in Kuroo’s lap watching episodes of Ojarumaru they’ve seen maybe a hundred times each.

When a commercial airs, Kenma glances sleepily up at Kuroo and he feels his the tops of his ears go pink when he sees that Kuroo’s eyes are already on him. His expression is schooled to disinterest without any effort, and he nuzzles the length of Kuroo’s thigh in one slow, deliberate motion.

They play this game often: pushing each other to see who breaks first. Kuroo’s hands are tricky bastards, pressing just right in the spots that Kenma can’t help but melt for, but Kenma’s never lost once.

At the small of his back, Kenma feels the blankets lift and shift slightly, fingers brushing at the hem of his shirt before dipping under the fabric and tracing down along his skin. Kenma swallows the high-pitched whine that threatens to bubble up and closes his eyes. The captain’s hands are cold, he knows, but he isn’t prepared for the intensity, doesn’t notice that Kuroo’s using the tip of his index finger to spell out ‘come here’ just above the waistband of his sweatpants until he’s halfway through the first word.

Kenma concedes faster than he thinks he should have, but, this time, he’s okay with breaking a perfect streak in a game, especially if it means having Kuroo’s clever hands on him. They both shift—surprisingly quickly, Kuroo sinking down into the cushions—and Kenma pulls the blankets with him when he moves to straddle Kuroo’s lap, wrapping them in a little cocoon. Even sitting on Kuroo’s thighs, Kenma’s eyes are level with Kuroo’s nose. The captain situates the blankets on Kenma’s shoulders before his hands snake their way to his hips, the fabric of his hoodie bunching around Kuroo’s wrists as his hands move higher.

“Are you that cold?” Kuroo asks when a little shiver squirms through Kenma’s body.

Without really answering him, Kenma wraps his arms around Kuroo’s neck and tugs him down, fitting their lips together in the way that he knows will shut Kuroo up at least for a moment. He sighs into the kiss and Kenma relaxes against him, feeling safe, sound, where he’s sitting. Kuroo’s fingers press harder into Kenma’s skin and he rolls his hips in a slow circle, teasing, though their pleased sounds mingle together between their lips.

Kuroo’s hands slide down to Kenma’s hips, holding him there in his lap, pulling him down against the front of his shorts and Kenma can feel his cock twitch in interest beneath him. They break the kiss—Kuroo’s cheeks a light pink and Kenma’s lips kiss-swollen—to catch their breath, and Kuroo leans down to leave little biting kisses from the skin under Kenma’s ear to the little bob of his Adam’s apple. Kenma grinds down on him with a little more force this time, watching as his movements stall for a moment then speed up, intent on making Kenma croon in the same fashion.

Those clever hands tug down Kenma’s sweatpants and underwear, fabric bunched on his thighs, and Kenma presses his forehead to Kuroo’s neck, the tip of his tongue laving at the captain’s collarbone. He’s half hard from kissing Kuroo alone, not embarrassed but surprised, and feels the need to hide his face when Kuroo spits into his own palm, even more so when his fingers wrap around Kenma’s cock and stroke him with that sweet, gentle drag that numbs between Kenma’s ears.

“Kuroo…” he whines, breaths coming and going in quick bursts. “...don’t,”

“When do I ever tease you?” The smirk in his voice is clear and Kenma nips at the skin of his neck, warning him. It disappears when he murmurs, “I’ve got you,” and the tips of Kenma’s ears go hot again. The tone is the same one he tells Kenma he loves him with.

Kenma stretches to kiss Kuroo once more, bucking his hips forward into Kuroo’s hand, and licks into his mouth without pausing to let either of them take a breath. Their tongues maneuver around one another and Kenma’s little whimpers increase in volume as Kuroo’s free hand presses lightly on his chest, thumb moving across Kenma’s nipple. Another shiver rocks through him and his skin feels too hot and too cold all at once.

“I…” he blurts, whatever he was about to say cut off by Kuroo’s mouth on his, sweet, soft, and yet depraved in the way he kisses Kenma’s lips apart, runs his tongue along his lower lip. He manages to moan a small, “ _Kuroo_.”

There’s a pressure building below Kenma’s navel, cock heavy in Kuroo’s hand and twitching when he gets the slide _just_ right, and Kenma screws his eyes shut, wanting to crawl into Kuroo’s skin and show him what it feels like to cum kissing him. The orgasm hits Kenma hard and he gasps out the captain’s name between their lips, voice low, limbs and muscles held taut.

He forgets for a moment that they’re in Kuroo’s living room, that it’s raining outside, that there’s a children’s show on in the background, and focuses on Kuroo whispering against his mouth, the sounds far off in the haze, and his body rattles a few times, feeling heavy, sated, when he comes down, and Kuroo’s watching him as if he could live his life watching nothing but Kenma cumming in his lap. The hand on his cock slows to a stop, and Kenma whines, over sensitive.

“Warm enough now?” Kuroo asks, pulling the thinnest of the blankets from Kenma’s hoard to clean them up, tossing it away while Kenma rights his sweatpants. He nods, looking down to observe the way the front of Kuroo’s pants tent in front of him. Kuroo notices, chuckles. “Get comfy, hot shot, worry about that afterwards.”

 


End file.
